


Save the Queen

by Velace



Series: Tumblr Stories [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: And Zero Plot, F/F, SO MUCH FLUFF, Tumblr Fic, as per usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-16 17:40:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16499816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velace/pseuds/Velace
Summary: Regina is a gooey mess. It's a good thing Emma isn't nearly as slow as she might think.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was writing. Not what I should have been. Anyone who is surprised at this point... dunno what to tell you, to be honest; you think more of me than you should? *shrug*
> 
> I know there are mistakes in this. I remember catching them and not doing anything about them because I'm lazy. I'll fix them when I'm not drugged out of my mind.

Stubborn as Regina prides herself on being, she realizes, sipping the lukewarm coffee her secretary had brought her a few minutes prior because Samantha, or Sam as she liked to be called, is incapable of doing anything quickly; she misses Emma. The realization is not a surprise- the fact she figures out the reason for her bad mood after only a week however is… well, also not really. If she thinks about it, and she is, more than is likely necessary, if she’s being honest with herself, which she tries to be, mostly.

She finds herself missing Emma rather frequently of late. The fact these realizations are taking less and less time to come to her are, quite frankly, more annoying than surprising. Why would it surprise her? Emma has made a habit out of bulldozing through every single aspect of her life, why not completely alter her personality while she’s at it? First Emma had gained her respect, something literally no one in the history of ever had accomplished. Then her friendship, which, again, not quite as rare as her respect but is something only a select few have managed, and then of course Emma had waltzed in and stolen her affection as well; the clumsy oaf.

Emma often pointed out how exasperating her hard-headedness could be; so why should it surprise her that that is now in the process of changing? It has seemed to Regina for a while now that her apparent purpose in life is to change to suit Emma’s every whim and want.

It should probably irritate her a lot more than it does.

As it stands, she finds herself growing amused and- she wrinkles her nose- vaguely disgusted with her coffee. Sighing, she sets the cup down, staring at it mournfully for a moment before she pushes her chair back and rises. She considers calling Emma before she arrives, but shakes her head almost immediately after the thought; Emma has been working nights lately and would likely still be asleep.

If Regina has learned anything over the years, then it’s that waking Emma is potentially the most efficient way of earning herself a lot of alone time; sad, regret-filled alone time spent pining for the company of a woman who is at her best an adorable idiot, and at her worst, an unfairly attractive disaster.

No, waking Emma is out of the question, but appearing in her kitchen and setting about making her a late lunch that will hopefully lure her downstairs with its scent has proven rather successful in the past.

 

* * *

 

Almost twenty five minutes later, it proves successful yet again as Regina watches Emma stumble her way downstairs in a pair of tight-fitting, blue boy shorts and a black tank top, neither of which leave much to the imagination; a fact Regina will, at least once a day, admit to herself is very, very appreciated. The sight alone has, does, and will continue to keep her entertained for _weeks_ at a time.

“She lives.”

Grunting, Emma falls onto the nearest stool, already reaching for the plate of food Regina nudges across the counter toward her. Regina watches her eat, never tiring of the way Emma closes her eyes with the first bite, or the sounds that follow. Sometimes it’s a soft sigh of content or a faint, barely there whimper of approval. Other times, such as now, it’s a moan that causes Regina’s mind to race with all the possibilities and scenarios in which she might invoke such a sound herself.

Emma shifts to let her know her attention is noted, but also to remind her that she’s uncomfortable with it while she eats. Regina drags her eyes away reluctantly and turns to the coffee maker to refill her cup before rounding the counter and taking the seat next to Emma.

They sit quietly, Regina sipping her coffee as Emma steadily devours everything on her plate. Emma will be grateful later, once she’s more awake. For the time being, Regina simply enjoys her presence and the occasional thrum of a hum in her ear, a smile playing across her lips.

In truth, the wordless appreciation is all the gratitude Regina needs, but soon enough Emma murmurs a quiet thank you. “You’re welcome.” Glancing down at the now empty plate, Regina says, “There’s more, if you’re still hungry.”

Emma shakes her head, turning in her seat. Regina stares straight ahead, hoping, lids fluttering and breath hitching as the softest of lips brush against her cheek. Every ounce of tension, no matter how small, dissolves from her body right then and there.

Emma stands, squeezing her shoulder as she walks passed. Regina feels her smile widen at the touch. It’s pathetic, really, but she can’t seem to help herself; recognizing and accepting her feelings for Emma has thoroughly ruined her.

Most days, she doesn’t care in the slightest.

Head in the fridge, Emma questions, “Didn’t you have work today?”

Regina stares, her mouth drying. Bent over like that, she has the perfect view of Emma’s long, muscular legs- not to mention that _ass_. She swallows thickly, just barely strangling the whine that wants to escape as she croaks, “Yes.”

Emma straightens with a bottle of juice in her hand, looking to Regina with a frown. “So… not that I’m complaining, but why are you here?”

“I…” _missed you_. Regina clears her throat and lies, “I got tired of all the paperwork and decided to take a break.”

Emma squints. “By making me lunch?”

Regina feigns a glare, drawling, “For someone who claimed not to be complaining-”

“I’m not!”

She bites the inside of her cheek. The sheer indignation on Emma’s face is both adorable and amusing. “Sure sounds like it.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Fine, be all weird and mysterious, see if I care.”

Regina sighs, her affection once more bubbling to the surface. Emma is a child- a child who, apparently, doesn’t appear to know how to drink juice without spilling it down her chin.

Standing, head shaking, Regina rounds the counter, reaching for the roll of paper towel on top of the fridge. She tugs a few pieces free and dabs at Emma’s chin as she asks, “Is it so hard to believe that I like to do something nice for you every once in a while?”

Emma stands perfectly still, her expression fond. “No,” she admits, smiling softly as she takes the paper towel from her, screws it into a ball, and tosses it over her shoulder. Regina raises a brow at the sound of it hitting the bin, mildly impressed. Emma shrugs and continues, “You’ve been pretty nice to me for the past two years or so… I assumed it was to make up for those few weeks before when you weren’t so nice.”

Regina winces. She is not proud of those weeks and has tried everything in her power to forget them. Emma describing her as ‘not so nice’ is nothing more than a kindness; she’d been terrible. She’d just started understanding that her feelings for Emma went a lot deeper than she’d originally thought and, as is her habit, she’d tried to push Emma away as quickly and as harshly as she possibly could.

“Of course it kept happening,” Emma says, drawing her back to the present. She’s met with a grin as Emma confesses, “Honestly, I kind of expect it now.”

“That’s the Princess in you.” Regina smirks. “She likes people catering to her.”

Emma gives her the once over, then nods as though she’d come to some kind of decision. After a moment more, she says, “You’d look great in a maid outfit.”

Regina laughs, delighted. “I’ll have you know,” she teases, “I look _fantastic_ in a maid outfit.”

Lower lip disappearing between teeth, Emma briefly gazes at with her something approaching lust. She blinks, then takes a step back and murmurs, “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Regina hums, letting her retreat for now. The ideas are already forming, adding to the many she already has. Showing up at Emma’s apartment next time dressed as a maid is probably a little too brazen for, what she hopes, will be the first of many pleasurable meetings, but it’s something she won’t mind entertaining every now and then in the privacy of her own bedroom- and who knows, maybe somewhere down the line she might be able to fulfill such a fantasy, if it is indeed something Emma wants.

Dismissing the thought, she immediately smiles when she sees Emma picking at the food left in the pan on the stove. Emma grins back at her when she realizes she’s been caught, utterly unashamed of her bottomless ways. “What? I got hungry again.”

“Of course you did.” Regina chuckles before giving another sigh, this one far louder and more dramatic than the last. “I suppose I best return to work before the town crumbles down all around us without my supervision.”

When Emma grins this time, it’s one of those affectionate lopsided ones that warms Regina’s chest and fills her head with all sorts of sickening, domestic nonsense.  “We wouldn’t want that.” Emma says softly as she steps in close. Regina tries not to inhale too sharply as she then leans in and kisses her cheek for the second time. “Thank you again, for lunch.”

Clearing her throat, Regina replies, “Yes… well.” Resisting the urge to magic herself across town before her face begins to melt from the sudden heat, she says, “Dinner tonight with the spawn?”

Emma beams. “Sure.”

Regina stares, momentarily forgetting what it is she’s meant to be doing because Emma’s face is so- so _everything_. She jumps when Emma coughs. “Right. See you tonight, Sheriff.”

“Looking forward to it,” Emma replies, tone playful. “ _Madam Mayor._ ”

And with the overwhelming urge to pounce on her, Regina flicks her wrist, disappearing from Emma’s kitchen and reappearing in her office where she drops into her chair with a loud, beyond obnoxious, groan.


	2. Chapter 2

Returning to the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed in something a little more comfortable than what she’d worn to work, Regina smiles at the sight of Henry bent over the counter. “Darling,” she says, “Could you set the table? Your mother will be here in a few minutes.”

He raises his head with a wince. “Uh.”

“What?” She frowns. “What’s wrong?”

Straightening, he slides from the stool and mumbles, “Nothing.”

An obvious lie, Regina tsks her disapproval. “Henry.”

“It’s just…” He sighs before launching into a slightly rambled explanation. “It’s Friday and Hansel waited until today to invite me to his house because he knows you don’t like me going anywhere when it’s a school night.” He inhales deeply, expelling the breath with a huff, and adds, “And I said yes.”

“Oh.”

His shoulders slump. “It’s okay,” he says. “I didn’t know Ma was coming, I’ll call him and cancel.”

She resists rolling her eyes at the forlorn expression he wears. She’s isn’t upset. Truth be told, she isn’t even disappointed he won’t be here. In fact, a night alone with Emma suits her just fine- not that he could possibly know that. “Henry,” she says, unable to keep the exasperation from her voice when she realizes he’s already reaching for the phone. “If you want to spend time with your friends, your mother and I will survive.”

He turns to look at her over a shoulder, phone at his ear. “But-”

“No buts,” she interjects, returning the phone to its cradle with a wave of her hand. “Go and pack a bag; if you’re taking your bike, then you should leave before it gets dark.”

“Are you-”

The chime of the doorbell interrupts him, and Emma follows it up with three more, making them both sigh. “I’m sure,” Regina replies knowingly. “Go, and have fun.”

“Okay.” He grins and darts forward, kissing her cheek before he spins on his heel. “Love you, Mom.”

“I love you too.” When a fifth and sixth chime ring out, she rolls her eyes and calls after him. “And would you please answer that _before_ I’m forced to strangle her.”

His laughter her only answer, she waits for the muffled sound of voices before she collects the necessary plates and cutlery, and wanders into the dining room to set the table. Emma arrives just as she places the last fork down. “Henry tells me he won’t be joining us.”

Regina hums. “Apparently he already made plans,” she says, glancing up. Noting the hands stuffed into pockets and knowing that Emma only does that when nervous, she frowns. “Is that a problem? I’d have told you had he not-”

As soon as Emma starts shaking her head, Regina falls silent, her curiosity no doubt painted across her face. Emma smiles, giving her a half shrug. “It would have been nice to know is all.” Lips curling further until one of those heartstopping grins replaces the smile, Emma adds, “I might have put more effort into what I wore.”

Regina bites the inside of her cheek, tempted to blurt out the very real fact that she’d have appreciated Emma showing up in a potato sack if that's what she chose to wear. The fact Emma decided to wear the black jeans that show off the spectacular shape of her ass, along with the green button-down shirt that just so happens to be one of Regina’s favourites- well.

“You mean it could be better?”

Emma suddenly laughs and the sound slithers hotly beneath Regina’s skin. Any and all thought she had to apologize because she definitely did _not_ mean to say that out loud abandons her in favour of her mouth falling open. Emma continues to chuckle as she shakes her head and says, “Now I _know_ there’s something wrong with you; what happened to the woman who liked to tell me my fashion sense resembled that of a drunken hobo?”

Despite the amused twitch of her mouth, Regina scoffs, teasing, “I was never that nice. Besides-” She gestures to her own outfit consisting of black trousers and a tank that is a little looser than the ones Emma generally wears. “-if you’d dressed up too much, I’d have had to go and change… again.”

Emma’s gaze sweeps over her far slower than her hand had before she starts to nod. “That would be a shame,” she murmurs, eyes flicking up to meet her own as pale lips quirk. “You might have decided to put on shoes this time and I’d never have gotten to see how cute your toes are.”

Feeling her cheeks warm for the umpteenth time today, Regina rolls her eyes at herself. She should really be used to Emma’s teasing by now but it somehow always manages to surprise her, and then her body is reacting before she has the chance to threaten it not to. It is, she decided long ago, highly inconvenient.

“Yes, well,” she drawls, “if you’re done being absurd, dinner should almost be ready.”

Emma flashes another grin and questions, “What are we having?”

Regina raises a brow. She would know in a few minutes, but of course Emma can’t possibly be that patient. “Why don’t you take a seat at the table like a good girl,” she sasses, “and try to guess while I go and get it?”

“Fine, be that way.” Emma pouts and pulls out a chair before dropping onto it. She winces upon impact and as Regina smirks, the lower lip extends further. “You’re the worst hostess ever.” When she laughs, the pout vanishes behind a soft, beautiful smile that lights up Emma’s face before Emma tilts her head and wrinkles her nose adorably. “You might wanna grab that bobotie out of the oven before it burns.”

Regina chuckles. “Why am I not surprised you guessed correctly on the first try?”

“I have the nose of a bloodhound.”

“You mean a bottomless pit,” she counters.

“Now who’s being absurd?” Fluttering her lashes innocently, Emma teases, “Pits don’t have noses, Regina.”

Lacking anything to throw at her, Regina once again rolls her eyes before she rounds the table and makes her way to the kitchen, flicking Emma behind the ear as she passes.

“Hey!”

 

* * *

 

When the last of their meal disappears from Emma’s plate, she sits back with a sigh and pats her stomach. She looks pleased but her eyes are half-mast and visibly glazed over. Regina hides a smile behind her wine glass, accustomed now to what she might expect from Emma in the evenings with a full belly and a long, lazy day behind her.

Emma is, to a point, rather wonderfully predictable. The fact she appears ready to fall into bed at only just passed 7pm comes as no surprise. Nor is the fact that despite this, she soon stands to collect their plates. Regina, after multiple attempts in the past, has learned not to interfere with this part, and simply, quietly, watches Emma saunter from the room, dishes in hand.

Sipping her wine, she waits, and only mildly impatient while she does so. She understands, after months of trying not to, that there is little in life she desires more than Emma’s presence. If she is honest, and she is currently in the kind of mood necessary for such, then it is a truth that has plagued her since the day they’d met. She didn’t understand it at the time, but once she finally did, it certainly explained a lot; like why they were always getting in each other’s way.

Perhaps Emma had her own reasons, but this was Regina’s. She accepts it- embraces it even, but, alas, she is not a patient person by nature.

Luckily for her, Emma knows this and the absence is short-lived. She returns mere minutes later, a beer clasped in her fist, and more of that predictability with the grin on her face. She rarely drinks, but when she does, Regina is certain to always have an ample supply of her favourite beer in the fridge; Emma has yet to live through a single dinner without teasing her about it.

And tonight is no exception.

“You _like_ me.”

Teeth grazing her lower lip, Regina provides her typical response and rolls her eyes. She could stop it ahead of time, but the way Emma says it is filled with so much glee that she finds herself not wanting to. Emma is endearing on the worst of days but like this? When she looks so happy and smug, Regina can do little more than pretend as her body grows warm all over.

“I did wonder why I’ve never set you on fire,” she drawls, “you’re certainly annoying enough to warrant it.”

Emma grins as she drops back into her seat. She takes a healthy swig from the bottle, then says, “You’d miss me too much.”

Regina tilts her head from side to side in feigned indecision. “You are slightly more tolerable than anyone else in this town,” she admits. “Granted, that’s not really saying much.”

“I’ll be sure to tell our son you think he’s intolerable.”

She snorts. “You have met our son, yes? Do you have any idea how much I spend a week to feed him, or how often I have to call him in the morning before he’ll wake up and get ready for school? Don’t even get me started on the state of his bedroom or those mood swings of his.”

Good God, the mood swings. She shudders just thinking about them and catches Emma doing the same. Most days, their son is a perfect treasure but on those when he reminds them just how much of a teeanger he is, he is a walking nightmare.

“Yeah,” Emma agrees. “I sometimes think about sending him to his room and magicking the windows and door stuck- and I thought feeding him sugar when he was 10 was bad.”

Regina smirks. “I did warn you,” she reminds her. She did. She had been very adamant about it but in typical Emma Swan fashion, her warnings were ignored. “You’re lucky I was in a forgiving mood.”

Emma’s brows shoot up and she splutters, having just taken another drink. “ _Forgiving?!_ ” She coughs, thumping her chest a couple of times, and fixes Regina with a look. “Is _that_ what you call yelling at me for 10 minutes while standing out in the hall where all the neighbours heard you coming up with various ways of calling me incompetent?”

Lifting a brow of her own, Regina replies, “I’m sure you can imagine how the Evil Queen used to deal with incompetence.”

Emma blinks, processing, before slumping back in her chair. “Point.”

“Mhmm.”

After a moment, Emma levels another smug look at her. “Just to be clear; this means our son gets his awfulness from you, right?”

Regina shrugs. “Pretty much, yes.”


	3. Chapter 3

Slow to wake and quick to rise is usually how Regina starts her mornings. Thankfully it’s the weekend, which means she doesn’t have to pretend to like being awake before the birds. This morning she is slow to wake and has refused to rise since she opened her eyes to the sight of one unruly blonde head occupying the other side of her pillow and an arm lightly pinning her to the mattress.

Why is Emma in her bed, exactly? She has no clue whatsoever. She assumes it has something to do with the dryness of her mouth and the pounding in her head, but the memories of the night before have yet to surface and fill in the blanks. She remembers they’d left the dining room to go somewhere more comfortable. She remembers Emma teasing her in between bouts of plying her with wine, and she remembers falling asleep… on the sofa… downstairs.

The sensible conclusion would be that she woke some time in the night and used her magic to transport them to her room. She could, of course, assume she hadn’t meant to bring Emma with her, but she’s well passed the point of deluding herself. If that is indeed what happened, then chances are Emma coming along was entirely intentional, especially considering alcohol had been involved in her decision making.

The not so sensible conclusion, which she will admit to being a little more fond of, is that Emma was the one to wake instead and rather than risk waking her, had carried her upstairs to bed where Emma had then fallen asleep herself because- because why not? If they ever had boundaries to begin with, they’d been crossed a very long time ago. It isn’t as though Regina is going to complain about waking up next to the woman who had somehow annoyed her so thoroughly over the years that she’d had no choice but to fall in love with her.

“Ugh.”

Head rolling toward the sound, Regina blinks. “Not quite the response one wants to hear from their bed partner upon waking.”

Mouth curling, Emma cracks an eye open. “Maybe if said bed partner stopped getting me drunk-”

“Says the woman who kept filling up my wine glass.”

“Well you kept drinking it, what else was I supposed to do?”

Regina chuckles only to stop suddenly as she discovers her head and mouth aren’t the only parts of her body that are suffering for her terrible decisions. She presses the back of her hand against her mouth and closes her eyes, breathing slowly through her nose, hoping the nausea will recede quickly.

When she feels the arm slide from her on top of her, she snaps her eyes open, a demand for Emma to put it back on the tip of her tongue, where it remains. Lids fluttering, she closes her eyes once more as a hand begins to rub soothing circles over her stomach.

Emma, sounding closer than she had been, murmurs, “Does this mean you don’t want the breakfast I promised to make you?”

Forehead creasing in confusion, Regina forces her eyes open as she questions, “Why did you promise that?”

“You wouldn’t let me sleep here without something in return.”

“And that’s what you came up with?”

“No, but the first three things that came to mind would have required you not being drunk off your ass, so I worked with what I had.”

Slowly, Regina turns to face her and, yes, there it is; the grin. She wonders occasionally if Emma  _ knows _ , if she teases her like this for that very reason, but no; Emma could never be that cruel. “One of these days, Miss Swan, that mouth is going to get you into a lot more trouble than it can get you out of.”

Emma, like the adorable idiot she is, wags her eyebrows and replies, “I sure hope so.”

 

* * *

 

Emma offers to bring her breakfast in bed. Regina declines. She likes the idea and will most likely take her up on it if Emma ever offers again but today she decides that if Emma Swan, who is generally the laziest person she knows, can get up and start the day with a hangover, then so can she. She regrets the decision almost immediately but, determined, she makes her way to the bathroom with minimal  _ verbal _ complaint and hops into the shower.

Her body complains plenty. Everything aches, from her temples to her toes. If she didn’t know better, she would assume she’d spent the night dancing. Then again, she does know better, and if Emma had her way, as she so usually does, they probably did dance like a couple of idiots. The more she thinks about it, the more likely it seems; Emma has a way of convincing her to do the most heinous of things while intoxicated.

She can’t dance. She’d probably made a fool out of herself, but the thought still brings a smile to her face. Emma doesn’t care about these sorts of things. She thinks if you find something fun, then you should do it, regardless of how bad you might be at it. 

Because of Emma, Regina has learned a lot about herself. She’s a halfway decent writer, for instance, but only if she has a few hours to spare and doesn’t mind spending at least half of the time frustrated; how Henry manages, she’ll never understand. She can’t draw to save her life, though it had been fun to try. It was even more fun watching Emma take over and turn her poor attempt at a horse into a hilarious, buff looking unicorn that now hangs on the wall in her foyer; Emma had dubbed him Studley the Wannabe Stallion.

She’s good at a lot of things and great at others, but she enjoys far more finding out what she’s terrible at. Dancing is definitely one of those things, which of course means it is the one thing Emma is guaranteed to convince her to do, as often as possible.

It really isn’t a wonder at all how she fell in love.

Stepping from the shower, she smiles to herself and reaches for a towel. Exiting the bathroom, she finishes wrapping it around her and knotting it just in time to hear Emma at the bedroom door. “Knock knock.”

Her smile grows because Emma didn’t actually  _ knock _ at all, and for some reason she considers it endearing rather than idiotic. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Emma whines, “But I’m hungry now.”

“I’m not dressed.”

“Well Henry’s already ditched us,” she reasons. “Just throw a towel on and come down before I starve.”

Glancing down at herself, Regina shakes her head. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s paraded herself around Emma in towel, but it’s definitely the first time Emma has suggested it. “And give you even more reason to stare at me?”

Dropping the towel, she grabs her robe from the chaise lounge beneath her window, quickly tying it shut as Emma ignores the question to complain. “I’m going to start gnawing on my arm, Regina; is that what you want?” 

Rolling her eyes as she crosses the room to the door, Regina throws it open as she questions, “Has anyone ever told you you’re a drama queen?”

Emma stares, jaw moving as if she’s about to speak, though no words come. The lust Regina can see is nothing new, but the intensity of it is. She nearly convinces herself that  _ now _ is the time to pounce, when Emma finally opens her mouth and croaks, “That’s not a towel.”

Regina tries not to react to the hoarseness of the tone but her body has another idea entirely and her nipples harden pleasantly beneath her robe. She has to smirk, there’s just no way around it as she teases, “Disappointed?”

“Extremely.”

The word warms her and sends a shiver down her spine at the same time. She clenches a fist in the front of her robe, fingers itching to reach out and bury themselves in all that hair. “I thought you were hungry.”

Emma smiles a coy little smile before stepping into her. “I am.”

Hands slide over her hips and Regina sucks in a breath. Not only is Emma touching her, but she’s also staring at her mouth. “Emma…”

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

She wants to hit herself, of course. It’s obvious what Emma is doing. What she meant to ask is what Emma  _ thinks _ she’s doing acting on this thing between them  _ before _ her. This isn’t at all how she imagined this going when it eventually happened. Sure, she had no idea if Emma was actually interested beyond the lust, but she’d always planned on taking the chance anyway.

“Wondering if I should ask before kissing you.”

She blinks. It’s obvious, but it still manages to throw her. “You want to kiss me?”

“I want… yes.” Emma licks her lips before forcing herself to look up. Their eyes lock and she tilts her head, curiosity in her expression and excitement in her gaze. “Can I?”

It is adorable and Regina grins. “I don’t know if you can, b-”

Emma shuts her up in a very effective way. There is zero hesitation in the way she kisses her, and zero in the way Regina kisses her back. It’s warm and soft, and just a little bit wet, enthusiastic and passionate. They both surrender the very second it begins with Emma wrapping her up tight and Regina letting go of her restraint, threading her fingers through Emma’s hair as their moans fill the kiss.

It ends too soon but not soon enough as they each struggle to breathe. Regina groans, dizzy from the kiss and lack of oxygen. If not for Emma holding onto her, she’s certain she’d have fallen the moment she tried to move.

With Emma holding her, though, Regina simply melts into her and closes her eyes, sighing, content. After a while, when they’ve both regained their senses and breath, Emma murmurs against her temple, “So?”

Regina bites her lip and raises her head. Emma’s gaze is still excited, but now instead of curiosity, there is a smugness scrawled across her face. Regina cannot fault her.  “I may need a few more samples.”

“Oh?” She nods and Emma smirks. “How many are we talking here? Two? Three? Maybe a couple hundred or so?”

“At the very least.”


	4. Chapter 4

Emma has to work. It’s unfortunate, but she insists on being responsible. Regina is both amazed and annoyed, but mostly annoyed. She has all of this day and nothing to do with it. Spending it with Emma fulfilling every last one of her fantasies had sounded perfectly reasonable, but no, Emma had to go and obtain a work ethic at the most inconvenient time, as if she hasn’t shirked her responsibilities plenty over the years.

She even had the gall to do the dishes before she left.

For about an eighth of a second, Regina contemplates going into the office, then screws up her face at the thought. The weekend is the only time she has to escape this town and their incessant demands; boredom is definitely the lesser of the two evils.

For another two seconds or so, she wonders when her son will return, and sighs at just how sad her life has apparently become that she can no longer enjoy a few hours to herself. She used to  _ yearn _ for all of this peace and quiet, right up until Emma bloody Swan waltzed into her life with her big mouth and her stupid, perfect face.

Grumbling to herself, Regina ascends the stairs to the second floor and wanders back into her bedroom. There’s only one thing for it; she has to murder Emma. Sure, she’ll be giving up her chance at what could very well be her greatest love of all, but what’s the alternative; finding a  _ hobby _ ?

Ridiculous.

Huffing, she flops down on her bed and glares up at the ceiling while she considers her options.

She could try to write.

She could attend to her garden.

She could bake something for when Emma-

No. Emma doesn’t deserve her baking.

The traitor.

Regina closes her eyes.

 

* * *

 

What feels like only minutes later, she opens them again, unable to ignore the sensation of fingers running through her hair. Emma lays beside her, propped up on an elbow. Regina smiles.

“Hi.”

Emma grins. “Hi.”

“I thought you went to work?”

“I did,” she replies, fingers stilling. She raises a brow and adds, “Six hours ago.”

“Oh.” Well then. Sleeping, her mind and body get the rest they so rightly deserve, and she can skip the whole boredom thing by being unconscious; the perfect hobby.

“You slept this whole time?”

Humming, Regina stretches, arching from the bed. Her robe parts just enough to reveal the sliver of skin between her breasts and capture Emma’s gaze. She smirks. “I had nothing better to do,” she reasons, drawing an unappreciative groan as she rolls into Emma and forces her onto her back.

Making herself at home in the crook of her neck, Regina sighs against the warmth of her skin as Emma curls an arm around her. “If anyone deserves more sleep in this town,” Emma says, “it’s probably the woman everyone comes to at all hours of the day with their problems.”

Regina snorts. “They only come to me because they got tired of their Saviour slamming the door in their faces all the time.”

“I stick by my reasoning that you could do it too.”

“And have people assuming I’m anything like you,” she mumbles. “Over my dead body.”

“Way to make a girl feel special.”

She raises her head and narrows her eyes. “I offered to do that  _ before _ you abandoned me to my loneliness.”

Quicker than she can anticipate, Emma reverses their positions and pins her to the bed. Emma grins and bows her head, their lips a mere inch apart, if that. “You’re already like me,” she murmurs, teasing, “drama queen.”

Regina concedes; it was fairly dramatic. She would argue, however, that in that regard Emma is the one who takes after her. Distracted as she is, though, she dismisses these first thoughts as she stares at Emma’s mouth and breathes, “This is highly inappropriate.”

Emma chuckles, shifting until she’s more comfortably on top of her. “Considering the looks and all the hints you’ve been dropping these past couple of years, I’d say it’s perfectly appropriate.”

Lids fluttering, Regina licks her lips as if trying to capture the warmth of Emma’s breath on her tongue. She immediately thinks of their kiss and all of what she’d felt during it, and wants. She lies, “I meant the amount of clothes we’re wearing.”

“Well…” Emma hesitates before pressing forward. She kisses Regina softly, almost- dare she think it-  _ lovingly _ . Regina moans lightly. “Are you sure?”

Her lips part and she gazes at Emma in disbelief. Is she sure? She wants to ask what, in this exact situation, is making Emma think she is anything less than sure. She wants to ask, but what comes out is, “You are not serious.”

Emma smiles, her eyes warm and amused. “Humour me,” she bids, brushing lips first over her mouth, then across to her jaw and down the length of her neck.

“Oh for…” Regina huffs and tips her head back. “Yes, Emma, I am completely certain I would love nothing more than for you to strip me bare and have your way with me.” Teeth nipping her throat, she groans, “Repeatedly, if at all possible.”

“Not just possible.” Emma says. She sits up, straddling her waist as she reaches for the tie keeping her robe closed and unties it. She pushes the robe open, her hands warm as they glide over Regina’s stomach. “Hmm.”

“What?” The question is barely out when those hands are suddenly on her breasts, kneading and squeezing. Not too hard, but just hard enough to send a jolt between her legs. “Ah.”

Emma pauses, her eyes flicking up. “Too much?”

“N- no,” Regina groans. It was one thing for Emma to be a good kisser, but a good fondler too? She chuckles huskily, arching into the hands as she rasps, “Jesus.”

“Mmm,” Emma hums and bends forward, taking a nipple into her mouth. She runs her tongue over and around it, grazing it with teeth before sucking briefly and releasing. She murmurs, “I was hoping you’d enjoy this as much as I knew I would.”

“Thought about it a lot, have you?”

“Frequently...” She admits. “Daily.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh,” she continues, playing Regina’s body as though she’s been doing it her whole life. She pinches and pulls, soothing any pain with the stroke of a thumb or swirl of her tongue. “You’re so fucking....”

Chest heaving at this point, Regina takes a moment to catch her breath before she prompts, “What?”

“Gorgeous,” Emma croaks, nuzzling one breast with lips and nose while she caresses the other. “Smart,” she adds. “Funny… Everything.”

Regina smiles, both charmed and pleased. She teases, “I could get used to this.”

“You’re not going to have a choice,” Emma counters as she palms both breasts and begins drifting south, trailing kisses down her stomach. She pauses at her navel, dipping her tongue inside, and Regina squirms, just barely resisting the urge to place a hand on her head and force that tongue where she wants it most. 

As her hand hits the bed with a decidedly indelicate thump, Emma glances up at her with a grin. “Anyone who had the chance to worship you and didn’t is a…”

Spreading her legs beneath the incessant press of Emma’s hands, Regina gasps, “Yes?”

Emma inhales slowly, eyes closing as she strokes her inner thighs. She sighs, flicking them open, and flashes one of those lopsided grins when she replies, “They’re fucking morons.”

Regina bites her lip, thinking. She wants to respond, but by the time she finds the words, Emma has grown impatient and the reply is lost to a moan as Emma pushes the flat of her tongue between her folds, hands kneading her inner thighs. She licks Regina all over, slow and steady, starting with her slit before moving to her clit, stroking over and round, then down to her entrance.

Regina shifts, lifting her hips and pressing against Emma's mouth. Emma hums, then pulls back, a small grin on her lips before she purses them, and blows. Regina groans, jerking, and Emma bends back down, taking her back into her mouth, sucking on her folds, sounds of contentment vibrating against her cunt.

Another hum, and then the tongue returns, sliding along her slit to her entrance, flicking in and out. Regina moans, low and deep. She reaches down and grips Emma by the hair, thrusting her hips.

Emma takes it as a sign and moves back to her clit. She sucks gently at first, as if to test Regina's response, which is minimal. She sucks harder and throws her tongue into the mix, giving a satisfied little noise when Regina gasps.

It doesn’t take much more. Her thighs are already quivering and the moment Emma enters her without any resistance at all, two fingers sheathed deep inside, Regina comes, crying out with her release.

 

* * *

 

Regina passes out. It’s only for a few minutes, but it’s notable for a number of reasons, chief among which is the fact she has never come hard enough to pass out before. Even more notable is the sheer heat from what seems to be the naked body she’d been relocated on top of during her brief absence.

There’s a hand in the small of her back and another threaded in her hair, both of them still. She feels comfortable and safe; another first she has Emma to thank for.

Raising her head just enough to peer down at the woman herself, Regina grins. To the untrained eye, Emma appears asleep, but to someone who has spent a good portion of the last two years noticing every little detail, no matter how minute, Regina knows better. She decides to tease her regardless.

“Figures the laziest person on earth would fall asleep after someone else’s orgasm,” she drawls.

A pale mouth quirks. “Shall I take that to mean you don’t think watching the  _ sexiest woman on earth _ come is enough to induce an orgasm all on its own?” Emma peeks an eye open, smirking as she adds, “Because you’d be wrong, if so.”

Lips parting, a sound eerily similar to a strangled whine escapes Regina’s throat without permission. Ignoring Emma’s chuckle, she pouts. “You came without me?”

Opening both eyes, Emma smiles up at her warmly. “No,” she denies as she begins stroking her back. “I came  _ with _ you… which has never happened before, so you should definitely be feeling smug right now.”

“Hmm.”

“Seriously,” she says, “you pouting is crazy attractive, but you should be grinning… and gloating, and I should be threatening to shut you up with more orgasms.”

Regina smirks at that and slowly raises a brow. “If that’s what you call a threat, I might just decide to be smug all the time.”

Emma grins, trailing a finger up along her spine and making her shiver. “I have zero problem with that- like I said, pouty Regina is crazy attractive, but smug Regina? Unf. You have no idea how many times I’ve resisted slamming you up against a wall… or on your desk… the floor-”

Regina pouts some more and interrupts, “You resisted?”

“I know.” Emma sighs. “Me and my damn noble intentions.” She laughs when Regina snorts. “Yeah, I know. Believe it or not, none of this was intended. I mean the kiss was… kind of… but everything else- I didn’t expect you to proposition me afterwards, and then you did and I spent 6 hours thinking about it… and berating myself for not skipping work. So… you know; they existed until you got involved.”

“Sure,” Regina drawls. “It’s all my fault.”

“It is your fault.”

“That  _ is _ what I just said.”

Emma narrows her eyes. “I don’t appreciate your sass, lady.”

Her mouth twitches as soon as the words leave her mouth. Smiling, Regina lowers her head, kissing Emma softly and murmuring against her lips, “Liar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was informed that it was fine to end it here, so there you go, mini-fic complete.


End file.
